


You're My Greatest Adventure

by oceaniclourry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, adventurer!niall, shy!zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaniclourry/pseuds/oceaniclourry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall thinks that all he really wants is just to live in the mountains and write about his adventures, but a friend named Zayn and his pet fox called Flick give more than enough reason to become the subject of Niall's story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Things

Nothing had ever properly woven it's way into his heart. No certain kind of interest, no lover, he never built himself a purpose because there was nothing really to base a purpose off of. The only thing Niall ever really connected with was the mountains. He hadn't been raised there, but since he was little, he had felt a certain connection to the rise and fall of faded green woods. So after school, it's where he went.

Even in school, Niall hadn't belonged. He was one of those children who had a happier world inside their mind rather than outwarded. The brazen blond sat by himself in the more lone corners of the classroom, the shade of the tree when lunchbreak came, between two aisles of the local library whenever he got the time. Niall wasn't bullied or anything, he just enjoyed imagining up a place that was quiet and free with what he discovered in books. Books illustrated cottages on hills where a birdwatcher lived with a fondness for mint tea, or a little girl became friends with an extraordinary creature, or an orphaned wizard had a peculiar lightning scar. More than anything, Niall wanted to embark on his own adventure. He wanted a life that was worth remembering in pages which, he felt, was waiting for him in the mountains.

So the fall after he graduated, Niall packed what he cared for in knapsacks, tossed them in the back of his red van, and tugged a soft beanie over his head. He remembers his last breakfast in the Horan family house as sunny-side up eggs and apple bread. His dear mother Maura smiled at him, "Be careful, and don't hesitate to call."

Niall grins back, "You know I can't call, there'll be no signal up there. But I'll be sure to write every Sunday."

"I love you."

"Love you, too," He kisses her cheek, and steps out the door to begin his adventure.

 

There was a spot in Northern Ireland that Niall had been researching since he was fifteen; it was where he now started off driving to. The cabin already had it's first two months rent paid by his savings, and the rest he could afford after getting hired in the local town called Cashelnavean. The surrounding area was sort of a natural reserve, so it would be everything Niall needed, with it's quiet protected forests. He adjusted his hold on the side of the wheel so he was turning onto another road, slightly sad when he realized he could no longer see his childhood home in the rearview mirror. But every teenager has to leave home eventually, it was his time.

Niall's thoughts grew rampant with the images of what his life was about to become as he drove on northwards, filled with daydreams of himself sitting behind a typewriter to record each day's events, making his own pancakes even though he doubted he'd be able to nail the careful technique, and who knows what else would come his way. One of his favorite parts about all this was that he'd be alone. It's not like he hated people; Niall often enjoyed sharing pints with his cousins and laughing himself crazy beside them on the couch. But no amount of anything ever gave him the sense of where he belonged, and he was much better off with himself than sharing words, he thought.

He turned on the radio for something to fill the silence, being rewarded with Furr by Blitzen Trapper. It was a pleasant song about a man losing himself to the call of nature and not returning to reality until he fell in love. While Niall didn't think he'd be called by wolfspirits anytime soon, his mouth turned up in a slight grin at the thought of losing himself in Cashelnavean, and meeting someone with a likewise interest. He was just as fine either way, of course.

 

Niall arrived at the cabin late in the evening, cab of his van trashed with road-snack wrappers and eyes lolling shut with want for sleep. He re-adjusted his beanie, checked for the key in his pocket, and yawned, getting out to grab his gathering of bags. It was really all just clothes, survival needs, or keepsakes, and Niall decided that he'd be unpacking tomorrow instead of tonight. He trodded up the front steps, taking a brief look at things in the dim blue light. The cabin was small, but not enough so to be crowding. The gravel driveway leading to it wound upwards through a series of pine clusters, and the cabin itself had two floors with a dreamcatcher hung off the porch of the second. Well, good. Nightmares could be filtered away.

 

He awoke tangled in plaid sheets with a warm heart and the need to write, on his first morning. So Niall went to his typewriter dressed in only gray boxer shorts and lazily fed a sheet of paper through the metal clips, stamping out the date with each click sending a happy thrum through his veins.

On the second morning, he decided it was too silent, so he went into town and bought a clock with roman numerals on the face and owl feathers etched into the wood surrounding it. That was really the only problem with living all by yourself; silence. He hung it above the small leather couch so it could tick away and finished unpacking things.

By the third morning he had a sort-of routine down. Niall woke early, brewing coffee that he left black and drank on the upstairs porch while he watched the sunrise. Then he'd return back to the typewriter with his thoughts that he'd gathered while watching the sun. Sometimes they were a bit poetic and long, other times he just wrote about how he'd accidently tore a hole in his socks. The attendant at the general store in town had suggested that he go and see it, 'everyone around here has been there at least once. It sort of initiates you as one of the Cashelnaveans.'

That opportunity came on the fourth morning. Niall put his coffee mug in the sink, and decided that he'd go see the river.

He dressed in a flannel that was half-tucked into his jeans, and a carhartt jacket to accomodate for the cold weather, along with boots and his beloved beanie. Fortunately it hadn't snowed yet so Niall was able to follow the arrows painted on treebark every half-mile through the mountain course, without losing his way in a land of opaque white. The young irish boy breathed in the clean scent of wildlife, and shivered in the chill of the woods, and thought about how maybe he might just fade away to wolfspirits like the song that had played in his van.

After an expanse of time hiking, he began to hear the rush of the river and left the trailpath. If he was really meant to live in a place like this; surely he could find a river without the help of a trail. And he did, Niall eased himself down a slope and braced his hand on a cold boulder as he took in the river winding in front of him. He was glad he'd come now, exhaling contentedly, watching the water curl over stones and crash against itself with frost.

A moment came over him where he was struck by just how right this all was, himself and the mountains against the world. Niall truly believed that people were born already tied to certain things, like people, or places, or a way of life. Some kind of fate had them already connected to a place where they would eventually end up, no matter where they were from. Just like how Niall wasn't born here, but yet he was made for this.

With a startled blink, Niall became aware that he wasn't alone. Someone was letting out a cheerful laugh that echoed like a birdsong across the river, and then it was gone again. He straightened up from where he was sat and squinted to try and distinguish a person amongst the tree trunks. Ah, there they were. A honey-skinned guy that looked to be around Niall's years was kneeling at the riverside and, to Niall's dismay, playing with a fox. The ball of flame-coloured fuzz was pouncing through the shallower part of the water, causing much amusement to the other boy. Niall practically beamed as he watched them. He'd never even seen a fox pup before, let alone someone his age around here.

"I like your little pet!" Niall called, somewhat out of character for how he usually acted with strangers.

The other boy looked up, slightly in wonder and slightly in amusement, from the other shore. "His name's Flick. He was abandoned closeby to my house, so I'm raising him."

"Are you even qualified for something like that?"

"My aunt's a wildlife rescuer here, I think I know what I'm doing, sunshine."

Niall laughed to himself, taking note that the boy brandished an english accent rather than an irish one. "What's your name?"

"Zayn. Yourself?"

"Niall Horan. I hope to catch you in town with Flick tomorrow."

"Yeah, would be a bit hard to meet up right now without swimming and I'm pretty shit at that."

Niall waved off to Zayn as he got to his feet once more, knowing that he had to be leaving if he was to be home by nightfall. Zayn waved back before turning his attention back to his animal. Can't swim, Zayn, and a fox named Flick. As Niall left to find the path again he started to draft what he'd be writing with the coming morning's entry.

 

The fifth sunrise, Niall typed about a boy with a hair like a raven, and he did the laundry he'd been putting off. Five pages so far to Niall's mountain story, piled neatly in a cabinet with tales of a barely hatched adult from Mullingar. Niall really did feel barely hatched, noting that he had yet to look for jobs in town or restock his food supply. Today was the day for pancakes, he concluded, half-mindedly buttoning up his shirt and making a mental grocery list. And if he saw Zayn, Niall decided that he'd have his first friend, because meeting for the first time is a passing chance, and coming by them again means you're tied up in fate strings for something. Maybe Niall was starting to get a bit religious about the whole thing, but as long as he was here, anything went, and what came was welcomed.

 

He sauntered around lostly in the general store and ended up with a box of pancake mix, and some small blueberries to entertain the taste, along with a few other house necessities like soap. The town was quiet this early before noon; clouded in fog with yellowing lights behind shop windows. It wasn't a day for adventuring around, Niall felt, so he went back to his van without so much of a glance down the streetsides.

"No way," came a friendly voice to his left. Niall looked up to see Zayn walking out from the candle store, Flick walking dozily alongside him. He could now see his face better up close, and it was really one of the prettier faces he'd seen on a boy. Zayn was thin but he had something so defined about him. Offering a grin, Niall walked up and hugged him as a hello.

"Surprised you don't get a citation for not having him on a leash!" Niall said, directing a fond look to the fox.

"No one around here cares, honestly. Plus foxes aren't known for liking leashes. He just follows me wherever I go because I'm the only one who will scratch behind his ears."

Niall laughed, the noise seeming to awaken the morning a bit more. "Do you live around here?"

"Yeah up past the river trail. I moved in with my aunt here when I was about seven, she manages wildlife protection and I liked it here better than home, so I just asked to stay and she said alright."

"I'm new around here actually, still figuring out what mountain life is like. It's really the best thing."

"I quite love it myself." Zayn's mouth twitched up with a smile and he turned his attention to Flick with seeming shyness.

Niall caught his eye again and nodded over his shoulder at the van, "Would you like to have breakfast back at my cabin? I'm going to attempt pancakes and if that fails, there's bread we can toast."

Zayn nodded with a chuckle, making a noise with his tongue to get the fox's attention so he could pick him up. The pair climbed into Niall's van and Niall reflected on how he never would have asked someone from school to join him for breakfast. Perhaps it was how those weren't his kind of people, and those who had foxes for company were. They rode back to Niall's cabin in comfortable silence; two introverts united in their usual way of solitude. Zayn stroked a hand over the fox in his lap, his face turned out to watch the trees go by on the side of the road, gray sky accentuating the peaceful feel mountains always had.

On a particularily straight stretch of road, Niall looked over at Zayn's observant manner and felt a surge of curiosity; this boy had left his home for somewhere far away, and while Niall wanted to ask, he knew it wasn't his place. Better not mess this up when it had barely begun.

 

The pancakes were a complete failure, as expected. Niall had some sort of mangled mess of batter sizzling in the frying pan, but he was too busy leaning against the counter to support himself with all the laughter he and Zayn were sharing. Eventually they turned off the eye of the stove as Zayn brushed away the near-tears and tried not to look at the frying pan again. He'd told Niall that there had never been a worse attempt at cooking, which Niall had readily agreed to.

The two ate toast and had a cup of cider each in his living room, with the fireplace lit and Zayn's faithful fox rolling about on the floor. Zayn learned just how passionate Niall was about this forest life he sought, and Niall learned that Zayn had a heart made for loving animals.

"What's your favorite animal?" Niall asked him, laying his head across the arm of the couch.

"Probably... rabbits. Just too cute not to be my favorite. What about you?"

Niall made a noise of exasperation. "No fucking clue. Probably foxes, I rather like Flick." The animal on the floor's ears perked at the sound of his name. "How'd you come across him really?"

"Was just going on a walk, and I saw him all curled up by himself in the hollow of a tree. There are certain signs for when an animal has been abandoned by it's mother for one reason or another, and all of them were shown so I took him home. Looked up how to take care of him and gave him a name; he's been my best friend since then."

Niall's heart sunk a miniscule amount further than it had in the van. Zayn really was alone, and most likely not because he wanted to be. He offered a caring smile to the boy on the other side of the couch, which was quietly returned. "I know we've only known eachother for so many hours, Zayn, but I'd like you to know you can come up here anytime, alright?"

A blush crept to Zayn's cheeks although he fought his hardest not to show it. "I'd like that, I think."

 

When the sixth morning came, Niall laid in his bed longer than usual with more than a feeling of home. It was like the feeling of home was walking hand in hand with the feeling of a cheery hope. He skipped coffee but when he was tired of the sheets tangled around his legs; he went to his typewriter and replaced the ink sheet with nimble fingers. That day's entry was written with earnest purpose rather than just something scrounged together, and Niall wrote that he thought the attendant from the general store was quite wrong. It hadn't taken a visit to the river for him to feel like he belonged in Cashelnavean; it had taken the feeling of having discovered a reason to stay here.


	2. Easing

Niall burned through his first month or so there, feeling a warmth being coaxed from his bones and newfound feelings in him. The only trouble is, he didn't quite understand what the feelings were.

Morning Thirty-Two

Things change like the seasons as you get older, yknow? One of the main goals for a young person is to wrench up a dream from within themselves, from images described between the spine of a book, or from a connection they feel to a certain place, or a certain person. And the beautiful thing about a dream is you can twist and recolour it any way you want to, because it's yours, and yours alone. Sometimes when chasing your decided dream, life will place something as a decoration on your perfect picture of what you want, and you come to the decision that you rather like it. Other times, life will erase a particular dream ornament, and you realize it looks much better without it. I have experienced both of those sensations since coming to Cashelnavean.

Satisfied with the mildly vague entry for the morning, Niall yawned and took the paper from the metal clasps, placing it among all the other entries in a cabinet above. He thought about how there would be need for better filing soon, and that there was a cozy furniture parlor in town that he had yet to visit. That could be an adventure soon. Niall was a firm believer in that anything could be an adventure, and that small things are part of a much bigger adventure. If you look at life that way, everything feels much more meaningful.

Running a hand through his kitten-mess of blonde hair, Niall stepped out to the balcony and leaned against the banister with crossed arms. It sort of felt like the right scene for lifting a cigarette to his lips; the writer, pensive in his secluded mountain home over emotional matters.

The things awakening in him were something he never anticipated to feel, really, and that was the issue here. This whole thing was about the unexpected, he kept telling himself. You can cherish your family, and love the mountains, and care for a pet, but Niall had never been in a place where he felt obligations to another thing. A thing; maybe that wouldn't be so hard for him to expect. But this was Zayn.

Zayn and his dark earthy tones whereas his personality was feather light, in that trying to catch him was so endearing; watching him pass right through your fingers.

Niall felt that he was the space between the branches of a tall fir tree, the curves on the face of a leaf, the roots buried quietly and contently underground. But Zayn was the tips of the leaves that the raindrops rolled off of, the collection of beautiful bark on that same fir.

If Niall were in that right scene, he would have taken a long drag on the cigarette and blown out smoke at the hills. But he wasn't, so he only furrowed his brow and closed his eyes.

Ever since meeting Zayn, Niall had found himself actually intrigued in another person, charmed by the way Zayn's face grew crinkles when he laughed, wondering what had gone through his mind some place deep in the forest five years ago, what his favorite feeling was. They'd lay upside down on the couch talking about their childhoods, and Niall would catch a glimpse of the skin above Zayn's hip where his sweater was tugged up, and he'd think about how he'd like to see if it was as soft as it looked. Niall often thought these little things about Zayn.

Had it been the right scene; Niall would throw the cigarette off the porch, run for his coat, and drive to Zayn's house so he could kiss the sleep right off his lips. But he was a writer, not a romantic, and he hadn't smoked a day in his life. So Niall set of coffee on to brew for when his dear friend came over at noon.

 

"We should go into the woods today," Zayn mused, hooking his chin over Niall's shoulder while the irish-born washed their mugs in the sink.

A grin crept on Niall's face, "I think that sounds like a fantastic idea."

"It's a place I've never shown anyone before, so you can go there anytime you like, but keep it a secret, yeah?"

"Of course, Zayn. Flick!" The two put on things for the cold as the fox bounded up to them from some corner of the house, auburn tail perked up like a housecat. Flick had a fondness for cat food, so perhaps the comparison wasn't too far off.

 

It had become winter in the nature reserve area, so the lands were littered in everything from slush to blizzard snow. Niall and Zayn were taking a mountain pass and clasping gloved hands together, Flick following somewhere nearby. Niall fought the urge to hum "Walking In A Winter Wonderland".

The hand-holding was for safety against any ground that may give out on the slope, but a rosy cheeked Zayn still didn't let go on the flat sections, much to the warmth of Niall's heart. They hiked in silence, as per usual for their adventures together to the river or into town. That was one of the things Niall liked best about Zayn; they could be silent and still feel an understanding between them for anywhere they went. Zayn was the exception to Niall's rule of being alone; because they could be alone together, in a way. Zayn had become the exception to everything Niall ruled out up here.

It was like Zayn needed to be told he was loved, and reminded that someone actually wanted him around, so Niall smiled as big as he could at his friend, whenever he got the chance. And Zayn would always seem to loosen his shoulders in reassurance. He stuck close to Niall much like his own abandoned fox kit.

They finally arrived at a flattened spanse in the mountain forestry, and the pair exhaled in puffs of mist, untwining hands. "Follow me," Zayn instructed quietly.

So Niall tagged behind him and observed the white-frosted pine growth all around them, boots crunching on the snow in time. Zayn stopped in a small clearing where branches tangled above them, almost like a canopy hollow. He stretched his arms out as an introduction; "This is the place."

"It's really pretty," Niall could hardly stop his own face lighting up with the way Zayn's eyes shined.

"I found it when I was a lot younger, I wanted a place of my own kind of. So I packed a bag of things in case I wouldn't be back by nightfall and finally reached this. I like to think that this place... Had a way of calling me to it. I've spent a lot of summer nights up here, first alone, then with Flick, and now I've got you to share it with if you're still around then."

"You seem to think I'll be leaving," Niall mused, leaning against a nearby trunk.

Zayn shrugged and looked down, "Some people get tired of the bleariness. I mean, it's northern Ireland. There are better mountains elsewhere."

"Not mountains where I'd have you though," Niall moved over so Zayn could rest beside him. Instead of sitting though, the darker-haired boy laid his head on Niall's lap. There wasn't a sound in the world but their weary breathing and the skipping hearts of each his own.

"You said you think this little place called to you, right? To be yours?"

"Yeah. Like a getaway when I needed it."

"I think that maybe you're my getaway, if that makes sense. I always imagined myself becoming part of a bear tribe, or rescuing someone from a waterfall, or some other crazy thing. But I think knowing you has been an adventure all on it's own, do you feel that?"

"I suppose I do actually. You're the only person I've ever really opened up to. It's really coincidental that Cashelnavean, of all places, you were drawn to, and that we met by the river; again in town."

"I believe it's a spark of fate," Niall laughed uneasily, surprising himself with the unsettlement. The writer in him compared it to the feeling of preparing to light a match near a gas fuse.

"You'll really never leave?" Zayn started, glancing at Niall from under his eyelashes.

"Not as long as you'll keep putting up with my bad cooking," They both stifled laughter now, a short noise giving way to openness.

Niall felt that imaginary match become struck in his chest. Fire rapidly shooting through every inch beneath his skin, heating even in the freezing conditions. "Zayn," He murmured. "Close your eyes, and trust me."

Zayn's face contorted in perplexion but he did as Niall asked. Then Niall closed the space between them; slotting their lips together as best as he could with the angle.

The kiss was just that; a kiss. No fireworks lit behind either of their eyes, no locking of spirits, but Niall did feel his heart double over with the tenderness of their lips. A soft noise was released when he broke from Zayn, and the two remained fairly close a moment after, searching the other's eyes with a mixture of searching inside themselves.

Niall hesitated, "Was that okay?"

"I liked it," Zayn took a moment to gather the right words. "I've been thinking about wanting to do that."

"Really? Me too," Niall leaned back and grinned in relief. "I want it to be you and me as one? Ehm, as in, I want you around and I want to see everything with you, I want you to be part of my life, and I need to show you how much I feel that so I kissed you."

"That conveyed over pretty well, but what do we do now?"

Anything. Everything.

 

When they returned to town, Zayn called his aunt and told her that he'd be staying the night away from home, and Niall felt his stomach clench as he watched Zayn blushing, twirling the payphone cord through his fingers. It was very new to them both, but Niall couldn't get enough of it.

"Y'alright, mate?" Niall asked, shoving his own nervous hands in his pockets. He was worried that maybe this was too fast for sheltered Zayn.

Zayn showed no signs of backing out though, he only settled himself right beside Niall, and balanced his shoulders where Flick was perched. They set off down the evening-lit sidewalk. "Oh i'm fine; just fluttery. You'll have to forgive me I'm not used to this kind of attention."

Niall laid a kiss on Zayn's smooth cheek. "Bashful was my favorite dwarf in Snow White."

Zayn looked like his knees would give out, smiling with that amount of amusement.

When they passed the candle store, Flick let out a frantic bark. "What's he want?" Niall asked. Zayn stroked the animal's front leg, "He really likes the candle store is all, likes to smell the different ones."

"Let's pick him one out, yeah?" Niall lifted a hand from his pocket to adjoin it with Zayn's and they entered the store.

 

Their day was filled with everything from flirtful eyecatches to tentative touches; like they wanted to be closer but had no idea how the hell to surpass their lack of social ability. Niall was the more outgoing of the two though, so he often lead them in their escapades around shops of Cashelnavean. They bought incense burners to fill Niall's cabin with curling cinnamon smoke later on, a bigger cabinet that they had a horrible experience with hauling into the van, and by the end of the night they were exhausted. Not of eachother, only exhausted from all they'd done. The fact that they were together sweetened their tired muscles over everything.

Back at the cabin, Zayn lit up the logs in the fireplace, and Niall put on a disc by The Xx in his rather shitty stereo. It was Zayn's favorite band; and Niall had taken to keeping a copy of one of their cd's in the truck for when they rode together. Flick was padding up the stairs to take advantage of Niall's empty bed.

"What do you want to do?" Zayn asked, standing and dusting his hands of ashes. Niall turned from the stereo, "I have no idea. Your little fox seems to have taken my bed away. We could pull out the couch and talk until we pass out?"

Zayn's mouth turned up in a tired smile. "That sounds perfect, actually."

 

Dressed in a pair of Niall's plaid pajama-pants, Zayn crawled onto the thin couch mattress with him, and they took a few minutes to find the right place to fit together under the artfully patterned quilts. The fire did well keeping the cold out of the room, but it didn't help to push down their constant burn to come closer. They only spoke about things for a matter of minutes before Zayn was sliding his leg between Niall's thighs, giving him a silent go-ahead.

They kissed slow to the crooning voices of Oliver and Romy, a song called "Angels" thrumming in the background, skin unpleasantly warm but oh so good against eachother's. Niall ran his fingers through Zayn's hair, letting the other boy's tongue inside his lips like they had all the time for being like this in the world. They really did; this was their escape, theirs alone. They could kiss like the need to breathe, touch like the fire consuming wood a few feet away, express the way they felt complete by the other with no one else to intrude on what they shared.

When sleep tugged their eyes closed, Zayn inhaled the scent of the blonde beneath him as he rested his head on his pale chest; and Niall had a blink of a realization that he would have a rather lovely entry for morning thirty-three.


	3. Dropping The Pen

Morning Thirty-Three

There's breathing, where your lungs fill absent-mindedly with air, and replenish your organs. And then there is...  
B r e a t h i n g. Where you have to take that moment to just pause and still yourself, to say "wow" and you take in that shaky inhale that sends a series of flutters down to your heart. I've done a lot of those since waking up and seeing him next to me.

Niall got up from his typewriter after a quick smile at the fox kit on his bed, then he continued down the stairs and back to the living room.

He was almost scared to come any closer, strangely enough. Afraid that the smallest step would creak the floor and Zayn's eyes would open, removing the peaceful view in front of the blonde. Zayn was sprawled on the couch-bed still, half-visible, half-covered by the quilt over his right side, deeply asleep with his hands curled by his chest. Niall wished he had a camera.

Cold as he was; Niall eased his way onto the mattress and wrapped the other side of the blanket around his back, so that he and Zayn were in the dark underneath it. They were both immediately enveloped in warmth, much to their freezing bones' delight. And Zayn had felt the bed shift so his eyes slid open, with a crooked grin at Niall and a lift of his arm.

"We can't cuddle, there are things to do," Niall chastised humoredly.

Zayn pouted his bottom lip, "Niiii... Can't it wait? It's so early, must be like six or something, knowing you and your sunrise tendencies."

"I suppose we could put off adventures for a bit."

"Come to me," Zayn murmured groggily.

Well, who would have the strength to resist that. Niall concluded that he definitely didn't. So he wound himself into the other boy and clasped their hands over his side, pressing back into Zayn purely for the warmth of his skin, and Niall breathed in as deeply as he could.

 

"What're we doing today that's got you so hyped up?" Zayn asked over breakfast, breaking a roll in half. Niall passed the jam over the table with a sly turn of his lips, "That's a good question."

"One you have the answer to...?"

"I might, what would you be willing to do for the answer?" Niall was teasing, but only because he'd never had the chance to play this side of himself. And for a few other reasons, like the cute way Zayn's expression would alight every time Niall spoke.

"Hm," Zayn put the spoon back in the jar, yawning. "Not very much at this hour. Could I pay the toll in kisses?"

Niall beamed, "I'll take it, yeah."

A rosy-tinge came to Zayn's face as he looked down at the table, and Niall practically cackled in amusement. "Save all of them for later. I was thinking that maybe we could camp out at your special place tonight, sing some songs, try some of the moonshine they sell down behind the general store."

"You know drinking moonshine is illegal, right?" Zayn's tortoise-shell doe-eyes got wide and afraid at the prospect. "Suppose I would be interested in trying it though."

Niall leaned back in the chair and lengthened his arms out, "Technically; just the production is illegal. Adventures are all about the new and unknown! But I promise I won't make you take a sip, we can just tell eachother stories and brew cider instead."

"No," Zayn grinned devilishly. "I want to prove that i'm adventurous now, we're definitely doing it." Niall only shook his head at the less experienced boy across from him.

 

Their trip through town was brief; the pair were jittery with elation for the camping trip to come. They stocked what they could fit in burlap knapsacks, things like food, cider mix, flint, and each one of them strapped a big item on top of the bags. Zayn had the sleeping pallet, Niall took the tent.

And Niall had definitely felt like Cashelnavean was home now, the stores that he frequented had owners that knew him by "sunshine" (after Zayn's too-often use of the pet name, and due to his golden tinted hair whereas the rest of the town was dark and woodsy), he was familiar with the ranger's schedules so he knew which ones wouldn't give him a citation for carrying a wild animal in the passenger seat, the list went proudly on. But most of all, Cashelnavean had accepted him into its constant stream of other lone forest passionates. Niall was niallandzaynandthatfox that made everyone smile, and seemed to make the branches of the pines look a little more flourished with life.

Flick pattered over from Zayn's lap onto Niall's, making him offer a quiet laugh as he tried to readjust his hands on the wheel. It was actually a complicated task, with the bush of scarlet tail in his face.

"There it is, don't miss it," Zayn piped up, pointing through the windshield at the parking pavillion for hikers. Naturally; it was abandoned this late into winter. From there it would only be a short walk up the road, a turn, and the trek up the mountain.

Niall pulled in gently; proceeding to remove the key and hop out of the cab. Zayn followed suit and Flick bounded to the frosted gravel. "My legs are tired already," Niall said, strapping on his bag and tugging the infamous beanie on. Zayn strapped his on as well, clipping the buckle over a carhartt coat and a knitted jumper he'd borrowed from Niall earlier in the morning.

"Yeah this hike has done wonders for my physical and spiritual health." Zayn conceded this with a brief wink at Niall, filling both of their minds with images of their first kiss.

"Speaking of kisses.. You owe me a few, Malik."

Zayn arched his head back and laughed, "Your accent and my last name don't mix, you know."

"Then perhaps you'll need to-" Niall glided his boots closer to Zayn, their fogged breath swirling from over their smiling lips. "...Become a bit more familiar with my last name."

Zayn just slotted their mouths together and flitted his eyelids closed. Niall responded with a sound of contentment; releasing and re-attaching their lips closer, gloved hands seeking out Zayn's bag straps to bring them together.

Flick barked in temperance, making the two break off in giggles. "What?" Zayn looked down at the fox, all tail-flicking and cocked ears. "Sorry, we'll be more polite okay?"

 

Boots crunching over the crystalized flake shelves on the slope, Zayn extended his hand out to Niall behind him. It was a particularily more vertical section of the climb, so they had to hold tight here. "Ready?"

"Ready, don't let go alright?"

"I would never." Zayn turned from the irishman and reached to the trunk of a fir; clasping the bark and gritting his teeth as he positioned his legs at an angle and moved up the slant. Once Zayn was on the flat spanse, Niall balanced out with his added strength and climbed up next to him, chunks of rock and snow clattering in his leave.

They heaved exhausted but relieved breaths, and Zayn clicked his tongue to call for Flick, who promptly scrambled up after them.

 

There was something very infinite about all of it, a sixth sense type of feeling that Niall didn't have any faith in losing. When you're at such a high elevation where you can look out and see rolling white-dusted forest hills, and the clouds are gray and stretching in an arc to both horizons. It's unreal to witness by yourself, but a spectacular privilege to behold with someone else.

But soon enough they were off the cliffside, and the trees buried the view as they headed deeper into the woods.

"You ever drank before?" Niall asked him, voice carrying the slightest echo.

Zayn shook his head, "My aunt was never a partaker in drinking. I always hear good things about the Autumn Ale they serve at the pub in town, I just never got interested enough to try it."

Niall laughed bemusedly; "Never had a drink, and you're all-too-keen on attempting moonshine tonight. It's like straight up alcohol made from the bare hands of rednecks and farmers, you know that?"

"Sure do," Zayn passed a backwards glance at his bag, where the jar of syrupy moonshine was stored. "What you think I can't handle it?"

"I just can't wait to see when you do. I had this distant uncle who lived out on Easom Hill, awful abandoned place, not even a real district of living. Scary type lot live around there; nothing but a gas station run by a guy called Slaughters and a bunch of farms. They called m'uncle BellTree Horan, cause he hung an old bell out on this tree, and if you rung it, you could come back in an hour and find a jar of moonshine all glistening and lidded, waiting."

"That's a lovely story but it's a load of bollocks, sunshine."

Niall feigned offendment and raised a hand to his chest; "Is not! You tell me a story about your childhood then."

Zayn masked the same pensive look he had on when he had first gotten in Niall's van. "Ehm, I don't like to talk about my childhood a lot. My father made it all sort of rough, hence the moving."

Niall's comedic strike had quickly softened away. "Well, how about after that? Tell me about after you came to Cashelnavean."

"M'aunt was busy a lot, so i'd find my way into the forest every day, and this is stupid but I'd pretend I was a prince. Like, weaving myself little crowns of twigs. Was by myself a lot so I learned the best places to hide and be quiet so I could watch the songbirds," he sighed sarcastically and glanced over at Flick, "then this tosser warmed his way to my side so the birds won't come near."

Niall exposed his teeth in a smile and drew closer to the other boy, "Yeah, and what with all the noise we'll be making tonight we won't see them still."

They both stopped and Zayn widened his eyes, looking bewilderedy over at a furiously blushed Niall. "I-I meant with the singing and the chatter not-not what you're- you heard me wrong it's not-"

Zayn burst into hysterics, almost losing his balance as he leaned against a nearby tree and covered his face. Sighing in relief, Niall shook his head to fight the bloodrush to his cheeks back down, and regained his smile while Zayn attempted to collect himself. "Dirty minded, you are Malik."

 

After a bout of frustrated curses; Niall had the tent together in the center of Zayn's hollow, and he stood up straight to dust the snow off his backside. "Zayn?" He yelled into the seemingly abyssmal assortion of trees. It was late in the evening by now, so they had to light the fire soon.

"Almost there!" He called back from somewhere unseen to Niall.

Flick rubbed up against Niall's calf so he looked down at the fox, deciding to occupy himself with scratching at the animal's ears.

Minutes later Zayn trodded into their little camp circle with logs that he had gone to gather, so Niall helped him organize them in the firepit, lighting the leaves and tinder underneath after.

The flames alit the shadows of Zayn's face and made him look impossibly warm; Niall had to stop himself from staring at the other boys' beauty, knowing that they could get closer when the night was over. This was a time for camping fun.

 

"God, it's brutal," Niall popped his lips off the edge of the jar with a cringe, swiping his tongue over his teeth to take away the bittersweet acid. "You turn, mate, and I'd keep the cider nearby it's harsh."

Zayn rolled his eyes and accepted the jar from Niall's hand; then filling his throat with a swig of the moonshine, and immediately regretting it. He sputtered onto the snow and the jar clattered beside him, half-empty. "Why do they call it moonshine when they could call it hell in liquid form?"

Niall let out a cackle, Zayn joining him with giddy laughter a moment later. 

"You said we'd sing, right?" Zayn inquired, nosing his boot at a stray stick by the dimming fire.

Nodding, Niall fell onto his back and looked at the stars. "Why, got something?"

"Yeah, actually. I never sing in front of anyone but... I trust you. You can join in if you know it."

Zayn inhaled slowly;

\- all of these lines across my face, tell you the story of who I am, so many stories of where I've been and how I got to where I am, but these stories don't mean anything when you got no one to tell them to, it's true, I was made for you...

Niall just blinked and allowed his eyes to refocus on the glittering in the skies, soaking in Zayn's light and streaming voice through his freezing skin. He knew the song, but he let Zayn continue;

-I've climbed across the mountain tops, swam all across the ocean blue, crossed all the lines and I broke the rules, baby I broke them all for you, oh because even when I was flat broke, you made me feel like a million bucks. You do, I was made for you...

Zayn's voice broke on the last lyric, like the words were wrenching up something buried deep in him and Niall began to understand that this song meant a lot to him, that the other mountain-hearted boy across the fire was telling him something; he was hurt. When Zayn warbled on the next verse, Niall let his voice accompany him.

-you see the smile that's on my mouth, it's hiding the words that don't come out, all of my friends who think that i'm blessed, they don't know my head is a mess, no they don't know who I really am, and they don't know what I've been through like you do, and I was made for you...

Niall thought their voices sounded perfect together.

-all of these lines across my face, tell you the story of who I am, so many stories of where I've been and how I got to where I am, oh but these stories don't mean anything when you've got no one to tell them to, it's true, I was made for you.

The heartbeat of silence after they finished the song, Niall sat himself back up and reached out to Zayn. "Come on, just let the fire die," he murmured. Zayn took his hand and stood to follow him.

They collapsed onto the sleeping pallet inside the tent and worked into taking off their coats, untying their boot laces, joining back together on the pillow. Niall thumbed his way over Zayn's quivering jaw, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. "Zayn..."

"I've been alone, for as long as I can remember, Niall, do you know how cold I've felt for hundreds of nights? How much you've done for me, how much you matter, how much it means that someone takes interest in me after being looked past by everyone else. It's like I can finally feel something again and it's all you, all of it," Zayn's face contorted at the outburst as he closed his eyes against tears he didn't want Niall to see.

"And I'm here for you," Niall assured him. "I'm here, and I'm not going, it's not just the mountains I came here for okay? It's got to be some kind of fate, us I mean, and you won't be alone anymore. I love everything you are."

Zayn nodded, pushing into a kiss with the irishman to his side and winding his hands up through Niall's hair to convey himself. To convey that he needed Niall so much closer, and to never go any farther.

Niall took a moment to meet Zayn's eyes in the shadows of the tent, searching eachother's irises and saying volumes without words, then he brushed his hands underneath Zayn's sweater edge. "I love you."

A noise escaped Zayn as he pressed his midsection onto Niall's and urged the blonde's wrist further up under his shirt, proceeding to return the touch to the other boy, his mouth finding purchase against cold lips.

Stars erupted under both of their skin, like snow was trying to break out of them but being silenced by the heat of their pulsing veins and venturing fingers. Niall latched his teeth onto Zayn's collarbone as gently as he could, catching small sections and nibbling, racing his palm between the other boy's warm thighs.

By now, this late at night, both of them were dozy but alive with hunger for eachother, making their movements slow, a rumbling storm of ghosts dancing and meshing. Niall began to grind the heel of his hand over the bulge in his grasp, and Zayn emitted a sigh into the air. A minute later, Niall dared to brush his hand beneath Zayn's jean-line, vision flashing over with heat as he touched Zayn's length. He made a tentative stroke with his thumb up the underside, rotating his wrists to better the angle and pressure so his fingers circled Zayn's hard on and pumped it experimentally.

Zayn was very quickly losing himself; fisting his own hands in the sleeping bag's fabric and breathing broken into higher pitches. Niall grinned at the thought of his touch making the other boy blush and keen, because this was all for him, they belonged to eachother only, sharing their passions for no one else, smoke signals rising from their hearts that only the other could read.

"Fuck, Niall,"

"Zayn?"

"Yeah,"

"Come for me, babe."

"Couldn't stop it- ah oh god- even if I t-tried you know."

Niall sent two of his slicked fingers to the collect the leaking at the tip, making his movements much quicker so that Zayn was over the edge.

Niall himself was open-mouthed gasping and more than slightly-hard after that escapade. "Guess we ended up making a lot of noise after all," he broke into short laughter and slid his hand back.

"You know what's really funny," Zayn's teeth glistened in the darkness as he smiled, "Is that you think the noise is over with, when I have hardly eased my own thirst, sunshine," The darker-eyed boy made a move for Niall's inner thigh and re-attached their mouths as they both dissolved into breathy giggles, hands back to the desperate venturing.

"Zayn, I n-need you to- hellfuck, do that again- I need you to know that I'll never leave, and that I don't want to watch the sunrise from my cabin if you're not there- oh, christ..."

"Show me you'll never leave." Was all Zayn whispered back to the boy below him. And then they were eliptically patterned in passions again, Niall having concerned thoughts over whether he'd ever be able to word this night into his typewriter, or any night ever again with Zayn alongside him, and then settling for the fact that some treasures are best kept locked away; in places between shuddery pants in a Decembery-cold black tent, and barely managed promises in every flare of skin, written in something ink never could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate you reading such a fever-dream if an idea I got one day, I apologize for the shortness but I was never one for dedication; I'm an artist, not a writer. but thank you honestly xx


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